


Clarity

by starlight_sugar



Series: The Easy Alliance [2]
Category: Easy Allies RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: The Easy Alliance is historically a team of heroes, but this time they're approached by a client with the offer of a lifetime: the chance to rob a bank.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fictional story involving fictional likenesses of real people. Easy Allies, GeekBomb, Funhaus, and SourceFed do not have my permission to use any portion of my work in their content.
> 
> Hello, everyone, and thank you for your patience with the update! I come bearing bad news: due to a number of factors which I’ll describe later, I’ve decided to discontinue the series. I did (unfortunately?) make this decision after I’d already written part 2, which you can to read below. As an apology I’ll be including the outline for the remainder of the series, including the ~1k or so I already have done for part 3. In the meantime, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this.
> 
> With infinite love to Shawna, who beta’ed and supported me through every stage of this fic.

“Excuse me?”

Huber turns around. There’s nobody at eye level, but when he looks down, there’s a kid wringing her hands and staring up at him tearfully. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I know you’re a stranger, and I shouldn’t talk to you, but-” The kid sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “My cat climbed up a tree, and I can’t make him come back down, and I really want him back, and it’s been a long time, and-”

“Say no more.” Huber glances around. It only takes a few seconds for him to find what is, frankly, the ugliest fucking cat he’s ever seen in his life. It’s orange and patchy and squash-faced, and it glares at him as soon as it sees him looking.

Huber approaches the tree cautiously. “Hi, buddy.” The cat hisses at him.

“Are you gonna climb it?” The kid asks, sounding less teary than before.

“Nah, that’d take too long. I’ve got a secret trick.” Huber lifts his hands towards the cat, which is perched just a foot or so above his head, and flicks a wrist. A miniature set of glowing stairs appears between his hands and the branch.

The kid’s jaw drops.

The cat, significantly less impressed than its owner, looks down at the stairs, back up at Huber, and takes a couple of slow, meandering steps onto its own personal staircase. Huber waits patiently until all four feet are on the staircase and then lowers it to the ground.

The kid scoops up the cat with both arms and stares up at Huber, wide-eyed. “Are you Guardian?” she asks, her voice hushed.

Huber grins. “It might be a secret,” he says, and lifts a finger to his lips in the universal symbol for “keep quiet.” The kid nods, mesmerized. “Take good care of your cat, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathes, in that hushed, solemn way kids say things. “Goodbye, Mr. Guardian!”

“Bye, kiddo.” Huber starts towards the end of the street, where Brad is already waiting for him. He shakes his head and falls into step beside Huber. Huber just grins. “What?”

“We’re going to be late now.”

“Since when does that matter?”

“You’re a stereotype, do you know that?”

Huber snorts. “Stopping to help someone on the way back from getting lunch makes me a stereotype?”

Brad rolls his eyes. Huber can’t see it, but he can feel it. “I mean the part where you literally rescued a cat from a tree.”

“Hey, the cat needed help.”

“The kid needed help. I’m pretty sure the cat was fine where it was.”

“The cat shouldn’t have climbed the tree.” They round the corner together, and Huber catches sight of headquarters, in the middle of the strip mall. “That kid knew who I was.”

“Lots of kids know who you are.”

“They recognize me if I’ve got the mask on. Which I don’t normally.”

“No, really?” Brad says dryly.

Huber ignores him, mostly because the mask was Brad’s idea. He’s sure he would’ve come up with it eventually, but it was a lot easier to have Brad with him from the beginning. Brad had been by his side when he decided that, as someone who could generate a shield with the power of his brain, he should probably try and defend people. The name “Guardian” came from a local newspaper after he had stopped a string of local muggings, but Huber liked it enough to stick with it. Brad, on the other hand, said it was too on the nose. 

Brad was definitely wrong.

Other than the name, Brad was Huber’s biggest supporter. He’d been there after every fight, and even in a couple of fights. He was the reason Guardian existed at all. When Jones had first approached Huber about the Alliance, back in the earliest days, Huber had said he’d join if Brad could, and the rest was history.

“You need a new mask,” Brad says abruptly, pulling Huber out of his thoughts.

Huber blinks, startled. “I’ve had the same mask since I started. People wouldn’t recognize me if it changed.”

“Not a new mask design, just a new mask. How long have you had the one you’re using now?”

“When was the last time we had this conversation?”

“Uh, a year ago?” Brad wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Seriously, you’ve been using the same mask for the last year?”

“It’s only a mask, it just covers my eyes.”

“Doesn’t it smell bad by now?”

“What do you think I’m doing in that mask?”

“Sweating, probably. Getting sweat all through the seams and not washing it.”

Huber pauses. He has a point. “When you put it like that, it sounds a little gross.”

“You think?” Brad bumps his shoulder against Huber’s. “You’re gross.”

“ _ You’re _ gross.” Huber moves to bump Brad back, but instead of connecting, his shoulder phases through Brad’s arm. Huber gapes indignantly. “That’s cheating.”

“I would never,” Brad says. “Maybe you just missed.”

Huber narrows his eyes at Brad. “You’re right next to me.”

Brad shrugs. “If you missed, that’s your problem.”

“That’s cold,” Huber says. He looks away before Brad can see the smile growing on his face. “You’re cold.”

“I’m heartbroken,” Brad intones. He stops to pull open the door to headquarters. “After you.”

“You’re still cold,” Huber announces, but he goes through the door anyways. “Do we have a mission yet?”

“You do, actually,” Ben interjects. Huber glances at the front desk, and Ben shrugs. “I mean, Brad does, but Jones said you can go with him too.”

Brad gives Ben the driest smile possible. “I think Huber was going to go with me no matter what. You’re still on desk duty?”

Ben shakes his head. “Don and I have our own case, so I get to stretch my legs.”

“An exciting case?” Huber asks.

Ben shrugs. “More exciting than being stuck in headquarters.”

“Fair. When’re we supposed to get briefed?”

“Literally right now. Back room.”

“Thanks, Benjy,” Huber grins.

Ben grimaces, but he still waves as Brad and Huber walk past him. Brad leans over Huber’s shoulder. “What do you think it’s gonna be this time?”

“Superhuman growth hormone,” Huber says immediately.

“You say that every time,” Brad sighs.

“Well, one time it’s going to be right.”

“I really hope it’s not.”

“Someone’s going to figure out the formula for it one day, and then we’re going to have people running around with chemically-induced superpowers.” Huber shrugs as they reach the back room. “It’s just the way of the world.”

“Is this the superhuman growth thing?” Ian makes a face at them as they walk in. “That’s not going to happen.”

“It’s definitely going to happen,” Huber argues. He’s sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that one day someone’s going to create a synthetic hormone that’ll give temporary superpowers. It probably won’t be the Alliance’s jurisdiction, if and when it happens, but he still knows it’s going to happen. It’s an inevitability.

“Maybe,” Jones says, like he does every time he overhears this conversation. “Or maybe not.”

Brad glances at Jones. “So to confirm, that’s not what we’re doing today?”

Jones shakes his head. “It is not.”

“I don’t know why I got my hopes up,” Huber mutters.

Brad pats his shoulder consolingly and takes a seat. “So what’re we doing?”

“Yeah, what’s the deal?” Huber asks as he sits next to Brad.

Jones leans forward, resting his hands on the conference table in front of him. “I was in a meeting all morning with Nicholas Aniston. You guys know who that is?”

Huber definitely doesn’t. Judging by the way Brad and Ian don’t answer, they don’t know either. Not for the first time, Huber wonders if running the Alliance ever feels like herding kindergarteners. He suspects Jones would say yes.

Jones shakes his head. “Have some local pride, you guys,” he says with a frown. “Aniston’s the president of the bank.”

“Which bank?” Ian asks.

“ _ The _ bank,” Brad snorts.

“The First Bank of Los Angeles,” Huber explains. “Big bank, really powerful. You’ve probably seen their commercials. They like to advertise that their vaults are safe because they’re power-proof.”

“They do like to say that. But it turns out that brilliant marketing campaign is completely baseless.” Jones doesn’t roll his eyes, but his entire face twitches in the way it does when he’s really, legitimately annoyed. “Lots of people put their trust - and their money - in Aniston and the bank.”

“The bank that lied,” Brad points out. “So why is the bank hiring us?”

“We’re here to make sure that the people’s trust isn’t misplaced.”

Ian groans. “Oh, god, are we all damage control?”

Huber has to suppress a shudder at that. He’s done enough PR and damage control to know that he’s not the best at it, and that it’s an awful experience. Maybe he’d be better off helping Blood and Damiani run the usual business. At least that doesn’t involve press releases.

“Sort of,” Jones says. “President Aniston hired us to be his baseline. His source to cite, so to speak.”

Brad frowns. “Baseline for what?”

“For proof that people with powers can’t rob his bank,” Huber breathes. He can feel the grin spreading across his face. All he can think about is Ocean’s Eleven, and Reservoir Dogs, and every other heist movie he’s ever seen. “Jones, you beautiful bastard, you shouldn’t have.”

Jones laughs. “I knew you’d want to be in on this. You think you can help?”

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” Huber declares. “I’m absolutely helping with this.”

“Hold on,” Brad says. His expression is a mixture of awe and glee, and so is Ian’s. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Gentlemen. Lady.” Jones looks between all of them. “We’re going to rob the First Bank of Los Angeles.”

#

Huber isn’t going to break into the bank. He’s mostly okay with that, if only because it means he gets to help with the coolest part of the heist: the planning.

“We have seven days,” Jones tells him. “Aniston thought that’d be enough time to plan and execute. To give us a leg up, he gave out digital all of the blueprints for the bank, including most of the tech specs for the security system.”

“So the kind of thing we would be able to find on our own if we looked,” Huber surmises.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“So it’s not really a leg up, then, is it?”

“I’m surprised he gave us anything,” Jones admits. “The whole point he’s trying to prove is that we shouldn’t be able to break in, so giving us help isn’t really conducive to that.”

“But we’re going to, right?”

“Oh, we’re going to blow that vault wide open.”

Huber grins. Aniston shouldn’t be profiting off of innocent people who just want somewhere safe to put their money, especially if he’s making false claims. And  _ especially _ if those false claims are against people with powers. They’re lucky enough that they don’t get shit from most of the world, but the tiny corner that does give them shit doesn’t need anything else to fling at them. He’s not about to let this particular shit fly, and if he knows his team, they won’t either.

“So we’ve got a week to break into the biggest bank in the city.” Huber looks up at the conference room monitor, where Jones is already displaying the basic blueprints for the bank. “I’m assuming you’re not going in?”

“There’s no guarantee that you’d be able to disable the cameras with me around, let alone the actual security systems. You and I are going to mastermind this.”

“Did Aniston let you in the vault?”

“No, he said that it’d be an unfair advantage.”

“Could we send Brad in?”

“Also a no.” Jones clicks on something on his laptop, and the blueprints change to an external photo of the safe, one that Huber recognizes from the bank’s ads. “If Aniston can be believed-”

“Which is a pretty big if,” Huber mutters.

Jones’s lips twitch into a half-smile. “-then this is a metal specially engineered to prevent anything from phasing through it, whether that’s some kind of psychic energy or a person.”

“But it’s not verified?”

“Do you want to send Brad in there?”

“Good point.” Huber leans forward, flattening his hands on the table. “Go back to the blueprints?”

Jones clicks back. “What’re you thinking?”

“The vault ceiling is made of different metal.”

“So Brad could phase through it?”

“Except the ceiling is directly below where the tellers are.” Huber frowns. “We’d need a hell of a distraction to get Brad in there.”

“And figure out what to do about the in-vault cameras.” Jones clicks something, and the blueprints zoom in on the vault, where there are three marked spots for security cameras. “Unless he’s figured out how to turn invisible when he phases.”

“It’s been a decade. I think if he were going to learn it, he’d already know by now. We’re not actually robbing a bank, are we?”

Jones looks at Huber sidelong. “You’re giving me conversational whiplash. We’re planning the heist right now.”

“But we’re not taking money, right?”

“Nah, Aniston’s going to put in a marked bag or crate or something. Our only job is to get it out.” Jones pauses. “Although we could always use some more funds.”

“I’ll pass that on to Brad,” Huber says, because Brad will definitely think it’s hilarious. He won’t actually steal the money, but he’ll joke about it, and Huber will joke with him.

“Please don’t,” Jones says, but he grins at Huber. “Definitely don’t.”

“I definitely will,” Huber shoots back. “So if we’re sending people into the vault, we need a distraction. What’s distracting?”

Jones slants a sidelong look at him. “An urban legend appearing in the middle of the bank?”

Huber shakes his head. “Too subtle. Not enough people will recognize me, and the ones who do won’t be paying attention for long.”

“Fire?”

“Starting a fire or Ben lighting something on fire?”

“Either.”

“He wouldn’t,” Huber points out, because there is not a single circumstance where Ben would start a fire indoors, especially with civilians there. “And it’s not subtle enough.”

Jones tilts his head. “Explain.”

“We’re trying to prove that people with powers can get in when nobody’s expecting us. If we go in guns blazing, or literal fires blazing, they’ll know to check the vault. But-” Huber pauses, feeling the gears turning in his head. “You know what’s distracting?”

“What’s distracting?”

“Difficult customers.”

Jones narrows his eyes, and Huber can tell he doesn’t get it, but there’s a smile playing at his lips, something curious and genuine. “You have my attention.”

#

Three days later, when the plan is mostly solid enough that he can explain it, Huber sits Brad down and does just that.

“Ian’s going to make a scene,” he explains, gesturing to the teller’s desk on the blueprint. “And you and Bosman are going to go into the vault.”

“That seems really low-tech,” Brad says, in his best, most patient  _ I’m trying to humor you here _ voice. Huber appreciates the patience.

“I mean, there’s more to it than that,” he says. “You know how Ian’s been casing the bank for the last three days?”

“Yeah, using fake accounts.”

“She’s going to pick a teller and give them hell.”

Brad frowns. “Our plan hinges around giving an employee shit?”

“I’m sending them a fruit basket later,” Huber says. He has it narrowed down to three possible baskets, because there’s no way to know who the teller will be, or if they’ll have allergies of some kind, but they’re going to get a basket for their troubles, damn it. It’s not their fault that their president is an ass.

“Sure,” Brad says. “Sounds good. And Kyle and I are just going to, what, walk through a wall?”

“You have to go down vertically.”

Brad raises his eyebrows. “Explain.”

“The walls of the safe are supposedly un-phasable-”

“That’s bullshit.”

“We’re not risking it. They commissioned Defy to make the metal, so there’s a legitimate chance that you can’t get through it. Anyways, the ceiling is a different kind of metal, probably because they didn’t think anyone would find a way to phase down.”

“What, they don’t think anyone would climb on the roof and drop down?”

Huber stares. “What kind of a plan is that?”

“Is that not what you were going for?”

“No, you were going to run through the wall and then drop through the floor on ground level.”

Brad shrugs. “I can do the ceiling too.”

“You can do whatever you want, as long as Bosman’ll do it with you.”

“Yeah, about that. Why’s he coming with me?”

“Cameras in the vault. He can deflect light so you don’t end up on film.”

“And Jones can pull him off the super mystery case?”

“He’s already been helping Ian,” Huber points out. Jones has pulled him off of whatever his secret mission is to do something or another for Ian while she cases the bank. “He’s yours if you need him.”

Brad nods. “I’ve got to hand it to you, you’ve thought of basically everything. When’s this happening?”

“Depends on the teller Ian picks.”

“What’s our getaway plan?”

“There are a few options.” Huber ticks them off on his fingers. “I could drive, Jones could drive, you guys could camp out in a restaurant across the street, one of you could drive even though that might be a little slower.”

“Jones shouldn’t drive.”

“Tell him that when he gets back.”

“Where is he? I thought you guys were masterminding this together.”

“He’s with Ben and Don, wherever they are.”

“Private security,” Brad says, completely poker-faced. “They’re casing a neighborhood with a crime wave to figure out how to help.”

“Are you serious? We’re heisting and they’re stopping heists?”

“I don’t think breaking into someone’s house and stealing a TV is a heist so much as it is a felony.”

Huber waves him off. “Same difference. We really do do everything on this team. Legal and illegal.”

“Illegal with permission,” Brad points out. “Robbing the rich to prove they’re being lied to.”

“Like Robin Hood.”

“Robin Huber,” Brad mutters, giving him a lopsided grin. “Sort of like the legends, but not quite.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Huber agrees.

Brad rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’re a legend, we all know.”

“And you’re the man behind the legend,” Huber counters, because there’s no way he ever could’ve been Guardian without Brad there behind him. He can’t imagine a world where he did that without Brad.

Brad’s face goes soft, in a way that Huber doesn’t see that often but loves every time. He opens his mouth, but before he has the chance to say anything, there’s the sound of knuckles rapping on the door. Brad’s eyes slide over Huber’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Got a call,” Damiani says. Huber twists around to look at him. “Blood’s already out, can one of you man the desk?”

“Brad can,” Huber says quickly. Brad elbows him, but Huber doesn’t react. “I’m busy.”

“You’re not.”

“I need to talk to Bosman about the ceiling thing.”

“Fine,” Brad mutters, and looks at Damiani. “I’ve got it, you can go on your way.”

“Good,” Damiani says, and in the blink of an eye he’s gone.

Huber frowns. “Must be an important call.”

“Time sensitive,” Brad suggests, starting towards the door. “Needs a quick response.”

“Damiani’s pretty quick.” Huber follows Brad out. “Maybe you’ll get an interesting call too.”

“Maybe,” Brad says doubtfully, but he doesn’t argue as he goes towards the desk.

Huber detours down the hall, peeling off and stopping in front of the Bosman cave. “Hey, Flashbang Bosman.”

“That’s not my name,” Kyle says, but he turns to look at Huber. “What’s up?”

“You know how you’re breaking into a bank?”

Bosman grimaces visibly, but he nods. “What about it?”

“Brad suggested an alternate strategy. Would you rather do our thing or go through the roof?”

“What would Brad rather do?”

“That’s…” Huber pauses. “Maybe you guys should talk about this. We can work with whatever you want.”

“Sounds good.” Bosman turns back to the computer, and Huber figures the conversation’s done, but before he can go Bosman adds, “You’re doing a good job.”

Huber glances back. “With what?”

“The planning. You’re good at it.”

Huber blinks. He’s always considered himself an offensive person, or maybe defensive - either way, someone on the front lines whenever the team needs something. But he’s been having fun puzzling together a plan, based on Ian’s snippets of intel and the blueprints that Aniston gave them. It’s been fun. Maybe he should do it more.

“Thanks, Bosman,” he says slowly, trying not to sound as stunned as he feels. “I’m gonna go… plan things.”

“You do that,” Kyle says. Huber can’t see his face, but as he turns and leaves, he’s sure that Bosman is smiling behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for body horror (detailed in the chapter end notes)

Ian smiles her most polite, bland smile. “Hi, I’m here to make a deposit.”

The teller’s name is Henry, according to the name tag affixed on one pocket. His eyes are a little glazed over, and he looks almost painfully bored. He doesn’t look like he’d notice a robbery happening in front of his face.

“What’s your name?” Henry asks in a monotone. Ian can almost feel the apathy dripping off of him. Not exactly a vibe she wants from someone taking care of her money. She wouldn’t bank here even if Aniston were an honest man.

“Carly Morita.” Ian hands over a hundred dollars and a fake debit card, courtesy of the incomparable Kyle Bosman. “I know I could do this at one of those automatic things, it’s nice to talk to another  _ person, _ you know?”

Henry, who looks like he has never wanted to speak to another person in his life, says, “Uh-huh.” He takes Ian’s card and cash. Without even bothering to look at her, he’s tapping away at his screen and putting the money in a till. He hands the card back and gives Ian a bland attempt at a smile. “That should be in your account in one to two business days.”

“Super.” Ian gives one more polite smile. “Thank you for your time, Henry.”

“Have a good day, ma’am,” Henry answers dully, and his eyes slide past Ian to whoever’s next in line. Ian takes that as her cue and heads towards the door. There’s a smoothie bar across the street that has gotten far, far more of her money than she was prepared to give up this month, but it’s a good stakeout spot, and she likes the smoothies.

As soon as she’s out of security camera range - a third of the way across the street - Ian lets her disguise slough off. Her hair springs out of the tight curls and flops across her face again, and she can’t help but smile at the familiar weight, the slight lift to her spine as she gets taller again. She’s not going back to the body she was born in - fuck that - but she’s going back to the one she spends the most time in. Her jaw is thinner, her body is what she wants it to be, and she can walk with confidence.

Shapeshifting used to be awkward. It still is, sometimes - she doesn’t like it when people stare directly at her like she’s a freakshow for their entertainment. But she knows she has an advantage that a lot of people don’t. She can be whoever she feels like that day, as long as it’s not much of a strain. High school was fun with that power.

And it’s not strange anymore, changing. Especially when she’s basically a spy now. Now, she has the best undercover power possible. It’s easy to change her eye color, or shift the shape of her nose just so, just enough that someone couldn’t pick her out of a lineup. It’s pretty sweet.

Ian pushes the door open to the smoothie parlor. The girl behind the counter waves and starts punching things into the register. “The usual?”

“I can’t believe I have a usual after three days,” Ian complains, but she hands over her debit card anyways. She glances at it just in case, and it’s her own name, not one of the fake ones.

“You’ve been in here almost a dozen times,” the girl says, eyes sparkling. “What’re you doing here so often, anyways?”

“I’m working with the bank,” Ian says vaguely. “I need to set up shop somewhere nearby, and you guys seem like less of a capitalist monster than Starbucks.”

The girl hums as she swipes Ian’s card. “I don’t think that’s a very high bar to pass.”

“You’re still doing a great job.” Ian takes her card back. “You’re my favorite, you know.”

“Aw, I bet you say that to all the cashiers,” the girl says, but she grins anyways. “I’ll have your smoothie ready soon.”

“You’re a queen among women,” Ian answers airily. She’s already pulling out her phone, and she has the number dialed by the time she reaches her usual table, in front of a window.

Bosman picks up after one ring. “I already put the money back in your real bank account.”

“Thanks, Bossy.” Ian drums her fingers on the table. “How many other tellers are there?”

“I think a couple more. Have you really not found one that we can use?”

“I think this last one might be our best bet, actually.”

There’s the clacking of keys on the other end of the line. “Henry Parker?”

“Hennnnnry Parker. Guy looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. I’ll go back one more time just to be sure.”

Bosman sighs. “I can’t keep making you fake IDs. It’s illegal.”

Ian waves a hand in dismissal. “There are provisions for that in the national super charter or whatever, and you know it. Besides, you’re good at it.”

“I know.” Bosman smiles. Ian can practically hear it. “It’s fun.”

Ian laughs. “Kyle Bosman likes to make fake-”

“Don’t say that in public!”

“Order’s up,” the smoothie girl calls.

Ian flashes her a thumbs up and rises from her chair. “-likes to bend the law for fun,” she says instead, although she takes care to lower her voice.

“So do you!”

“Yeah.” Ian grins and takes a drink of her smoothie. “It’s delicious,” she calls over to the smoothie girl, who waves at her from the kitchen.

“Are you at that smoothie place again?”

“Gotta kill time somewhere, and they have free wi-fi.”

“You amaze me,” Bosman says, with a strange weight to it. “I’ve gotta get back to what I’m normally doing. Enjoy your smoothie.”

“Enjoy your secret mission,” Ian replies, and hangs up. She’s not sure what Bosman’s doing - none of them are, except for Jones, maybe - but it’s a tantalizing mystery. It’s probably something to do with Maude, given the timing, but Bosman is good about keeping secrets secret. The most she’s been able to wheedle out of him is that it’s dangerous, and not in the physical sense. He’d called it “political,” with a very Bosman-y wrinkle of the nose, and Ian has no idea what to make of that.

Ian takes another long sip of her drink and glances outside. It’s autumn, but it’s California autumn, so it’s still pleasant and sunny. It looks lovely out, and she’s not busy. Might as well go for a walk.

She waves at the smoothie girl as she pushes the door open. There’s a breeze, just enough that it picks her hair up, and she can’t help but smile. Los Angeles, the best damn city in the world. The city that’ll let her change if she wants to, but won’t force her to. Yeah, she’s in the right place.

“Don’t move,” a voice suddenly says behind her, low and shaky.

Ian, who decides she’s never been good at following directions, turns around. There’s a girl standing behind her, hands clenched around a pistol held close to her chest. It’s aimed directly at Ian.

She takes a sip of smoothie. “Can I help you?”

“I said don’t move,” the girl grits out.

Ian doesn’t actually wave her off - there’s only so dismissive you can be towards someone pointing a gun at you - but she comes close. “If you cared you would’ve shot already. Are you mugging me?”

“I’m-” she takes a step closer. “I’m not mugging you, but you need to come with me.”

“Do I?”

“You’re one of those super people, right? I saw you change earlier, don’t lie to me.”

Ian’s heart stops. Most of the public has accepted superpowers, but there are still fringe groups out there, ones that hate powers. They don’t have a lot of influence but they’re still dangerous. She’s not about to get caught in this shit. She wonders if Don’s close enough to hear if she just started psychically screaming. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you have a team?” The girl shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t matter. I just need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe you can help him.” Her voice cracks in desperation.

Ian pauses. “Okay, you can put that thing away? It’s broad daylight, come on.”

The girl blinks at her, and Ian uses her free hand to reach out and fold her fingers over the girl’s. She lets her push the barrel of the gun down towards the ground.

“Wasn’t loaded,” she mumbles. “I just- I didn’t know-”

“Someone needs help? Right now?”

“My brother-”

“Take me,” Ian cuts her off. The bank can wait. “What’s your name?”

“Rose.” She turns on her heel and starts walking fast, shoulders hunched. Ian almost trips over her own feet trying to keep up, following close behind. “You can’t bring him to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“He’ll tell you.” Rose pivots down an alleyway. “Can you do anything other than change shape?”

“I can call for help,” Ian mutters. “What’s the matter, is he hurt?”

“He’s-” Rose shakes her head. “It’s easier to show you. Scotty?”

“Still alive,” a voice croaks from the end of the alley.

Rose drops to her knees and leans in, murmuring something that Ian can’t hear. Ian takes a couple of wary steps closer until she can see the infamous Scotty.

The second thing she notices is that Scotty and Rose really do look like siblings. It’s less about what they look like - although they have the same nose, the same complexion - and more about the way they’re looking at each other. Irritated, fond, afraid.

The first thing Ian notices is, of course, that the right side of Scotty’s torso is solid metal.

“All right,” Ian says, and slowly sinks down to her knees, setting her smoothie down next to her. “Okay. Scotty?”

“Scott,” he croaks. His eyes skate up and down Ian, and his mouth twists into something like a frown. “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Ian, I’m here to help.” She pauses. “Sort of. I’m actually here to call someone who might be able to help.”

“Might?” Scott looks at Rose, his whole head rolling to the side. “Might?”

“She’s a super, she knows people. You know someone?” Rose directs the question at Ian.

“I know someone.” Ian shifts so that she can pull her phone out of her pocket. “I’m going to make a phone call, and then you’re going to explain why you’re all shiny.”

Scott huffs. “I’ll say what I can.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Ian swipes her contacts open, taps a name, and waits.

“Ian?”

“Damiani, are you busy?”

“Not too busy to help out.”

“Can you come to the bank? I mean, to an alleyway across the street from the bank.”

There’s a pause. Ian takes a second to look at Scott a little more closely. He’s leaning pretty heavily on the metal side, and there are clear trails of silver spreading out from the solid hunk of metal. He doesn’t look sick, but his eyes are glazed and his breathing is shallow.

“Discreetly,” Ian adds, because that might be important. “And quickly. Please.”

“Sure,” Damiani says. She can hear how dubious he is, but he doesn’t question it, which is a relief. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Make it five?”

“I can’t bend the laws of traffic.”

Ian sighs. “Fine. And thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The line goes dead, so Ian turns to Rose. “My friend is on his way. He should be able to do something.”

“I don’t like should,” Scott mutters, full of disdain.

“Scott,” Rose says warningly.

Ian glares at him. “I’m sorry, what’s your other option? Dying in an alleyway?”

“Thank you.” Rose looks at Ian gratefully. Her hands are shaking. The unloaded gun is next to her on the ground. “And we’ll try and help you.”

“Rosie-”

“ _ Scotty. _ ”

“Is the metal organic?” Ian asks. “Is it flexible or malleable? Or is it just metal?”

“You wanna touch it and find out?”

Ian shrugs and reaches a hand out. Scott grimaces, but he doesn’t stop her from brushing her hand up against his metal side.

“It’s warm,” she murmurs. Body heat, she supposes. And the metal is as solid as any metal she’s ever felt. She presses lightly against it; it doesn’t give at all. Ian met someone once who could turn into organic metal, and this doesn’t feel anything like that. “You’re just… turning to metal?”

“Apparently.” Scott grimaces. “Can’t tell if it can be reversed yet.”

“Is it on your back? Can you turn around?”

“It’s too heavy for me to move much.”

“How did this happen?”

“You can tell her,” Rose blurts out, before Scott has the chance to answer. “I know, I know what you’re thinking, but-”

“Rosie,” Scott says. He waits for her to look at him and then half-smiles, looking at ease. “I’m gonna tell her.”

Rose takes a deep breath. “Okay. Good.”

Ian looks at Scott expectantly. He sighs and rolls his right shoulder back. “I had a couple of surgery scars. Nothing too bad, but I wanted ‘em gone. Saw this advertisement for the paid chance to be in an experimental procedure for scar removal. I thought it’d be a quick way to make some extra cash, so I signed up. It was a one-time procedure. They gave me a shot and told me to come in twice a week for follow-ups.”

“What was the shot?”

“Hell if I know.” Scott looks irritated. “Magic scar serum, I don’t know. But it worked at first. The scars were gone by the next day, and it was fine for the first week.”

“And when was that?”

“Last week. A few days ago I started getting chest pains, and then metal patches started showing up. Every time I called the doctors, they wouldn’t pick up, and when I went to the clinic where they did the shot-” Scott looks away.

“They were gone,” Rose finishes, voice tight with bitterness. “We figure he wasn’t the only one who started going all cyborg on them, and as soon as they realized what was going on they skipped town. But we don’t know anyone else in the trial.”

“Okay, that all makes sense,” Ian says. Because it does, even if it’s really fucking awful. “And you didn’t have any way to follow up, so here you are.”

“Here I am.” Scott lifts his left hand and taps on the solid metal. It makes a dull thud, something that Ian recognizes from kicking garbage cans and walking into metal walls.

She can’t help but stare. “Does that feel weird?”

“I’ve kind of gotten used to it.”

“But he shouldn’t,” Rose snaps. “He shouldn’t have to live like this, you have to find a way to fix him.”

“My friend-”

“What’s your friend going to do?”

“He’s going to try,” Ian snaps. “I’m trying right now. What does it feel like when you move?”

“Difficult,” Scott says blandly. “Hope your friend has better questions than you.”

Ian opens her mouth to retort, but her phone starts buzzing before she can get a word out. She swipes it unlocked immediately. “Yeah?”

“Which alleyway are you in?”

“By the smoothie shop.” Ian turns and looks down the alleyway. “I can’t see you.”

“I just parked, I’m walking now. Whatever this is-”

A shadow passes over the entrance to the alley. “Wait!” Ian yelps.

Damiani goes quiet, and the shadow returns. “Seriously?”

“This is a weird situation,” Ian says. She hangs up and lifts a hand to wave him over.

“Weird can mean a lot of things,” Damiani gripes, footfalls echoing on the pavement. She can tell the exact moment that he sees Scott’s shoulder because the motion stops, everything stops until he says, voice rigid, “Move.”

Ian gets to her feet as quickly as she can and steps back. Rose doesn’t stand, but she adjusts herself so Damiani can kneel next to Scott. “Can you fix him?”

“I can’t even diagnose him yet,” Damiani mutters. “Is it organic?”

“Not as far as I know.” Ian crosses her arms. “Is there someone we could call about metallokinesis or moving the metal or something?”

Damiani shakes his head, pressing his fingers against the metal. “I don’t think so. Maybe Funhaus, but-”

“No,” Scott says sharply.

“You wanna try that again?” Damiani says amiably.

“They said no big teams.” Rose looks at Ian and Damiani. “They said- you guys aren’t a big team, are you?”

“Nah, but we’re good at what we do.” Damiani glances at Ian. “Who’s they?”

“Experimental drug,” Ian supplies, and watches Damiani’s lips thin. “It all seems pretty fucked to me.”

“You don’t say,” he mutters, and raps his knuckles against the metal, more firmly than Scott had earlier. “You feel that?”

“No.”

“You can’t feel pressure?”

“I can’t feel anything.”

“At all or in the immediate area?”

“I don’t know,” Scott spits out. “And I didn’t ask for your fucking  _ help. _ ”

“Too bad,” Damiani responds, resting one hand on the fleshy part of Scott’s shoulder. “I’m going to try and fix you from the inside out now, hold still.”

“Hold-” Scott’s eyes bulge. “Wh-”

“It kinda tickles,” Ian says. She’s been on the receiving end of Damiani’s powers more than once, and there’s something too weird to verbalize about someone reorienting cells and muscle tissue inside of you.

Scott’s eyes dart between Ian and Damiani. “How’s he- how’re you-”

“What’s he doing?” Rose demands.

“He can manipulate the human body,” Ian explains. “Anything organic.”

“Organic,” Damiani echoes, and lifts his hand.

Scott smiles mirthlessly. “I dropped out of school, but I don’t think metal is organic.”

Ian swallows. “Damiani?”

“I’ll call people,” Damiani says. It takes a second for Ian to notice that he’s looking at Rose, not Scott. “There’ll be people who can be discreet, who can help if they can. They won’t let him get sued, or whatever it is you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about him dying,” Rose answers. Her voice doesn’t shake this time.

Damiani snorts. “Yeah, you and me both. Here-” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, Alliance standard. “He gets worse, you call me. He gets better, you call me. Or you can call Ian, if you want.”

“No, call Damiani,” Ian corrects quickly. “He can actually do things if something gets worse.”

Rose nods slowly and pockets the business card. “Thank you.” She turns to Ian. “I can pay for a new smoothie.”

“Mine’s still right there,” Ian points out. Damiani picks it up, and she takes it from him. “No damage done. Maybe work on your strategy, though.”

Rose smiles wanly. “I’ll do my best.”

Damiani gets to his feet and looks at Scott. “You wanna die?”

“No, sir,” Scott says, “but I figure I’m going to anyways.”

“Not if you let us help you.”

Scott shrugs. “Thanks for trying.”

“We’ll keep trying.” Damiani starts down the alleyway, back towards the street, and Ian falls into step beside him. “I thought you were working at the bank.”

“I was. They needed help.”

“You found trouble?”

“Trouble found me,” Ian mutters, and resists the urge to look over her shoulder. “There’s really nothing you can do?”

Damiani sighs. “Whatever drug he took, it’s literally turning him to metal. It looks like it started with the skin and spread inwards.”

“Inwards how?”

“His ribcage doesn’t look great.”

Ian hisses through her teeth as they reach the street. She can see Damiani’s car parked down the block, and they turn towards it together. “Who’re you going to call?”

“Oh, I’m calling Funhaus, I don’t care what they want. They can do more about this than I can.” Damiani slants a look at Ian. “Or than you can.”

“I couldn’t do anything,” Ian says. It’s a little hollow in her chest, sure, but it’s the truth. “Except call you.”

“Sometimes all you can do is call someone. Which reminds me, which one of us is calling this in to Jones?”

“You should.”

Damiani nods. “I’ll call on my way back to headquarters. You’re staying?”

“Yeah, I need to go back to the bank.”

“We’re walking away from the bank right now.”

“I’ll go for a walk, clear my head, finish my smoothie.” She takes a sip of it just to prove her point, and very carefully doesn’t gag at how cloyingly sweet it tastes. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Never,” Damiani says as he stops at his car, and Ian really, really can’t tell if he means it or if he means the opposite. “Call me if you need me.”

“Of course.” Ian keeps walking. She couldn’t stop if she tried. She waits until she sees Damiani drive past her to pull out her phone and scroll through her contacts. He was right: sometimes all you can do is call someone, and now seems like a good time to do that.

The thing is, she’s seen people die. It’s kind of a given in the hero business. It sucks, every fucking time, but this is a different kind of sucking because she can’t do anything about Scott. He’s going to die, and all she could do was call Damiani. Now all she can do is ease her own conscience.

Ben picks up on the second ring. “Ian?”

“Ben?” Ian says, trying to sound surprised. “Oh, I was trying to call Jones, my thumb must’ve slipped. Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t worry,” Ben says. He sounds almost charmingly confused, but he doesn’t hang up. “Did you- you know, need to call Jones?”

“It’s not time-sensitive,” Ian says airily. “How’s suburbia treating you?”

“It’s not my favorite place to be,” Ben says, so dryly that Ian snorts. “But the people are nice.”

“Have you gotten any casseroles?”

“I’ve gotten three.”

Ian laughs, letting it slough off some of the gloom of seeing a guy on the verge of death. “That’s very suburban.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Ben smiles - Ian can’t see it but she knows it anyways, the tiny exasperated quirk of the lips that means he’s actually happier than he’s letting on. “How’s the bank?”

“It’s terrifying.” Ian takes a loud slurp of her smoothie. “I’m so scared I can barely see straight, Ben.”

“What are you eating right now?”

“Smoothie. It takes the edge off. Makes me less mind-numbingly afraid.”

“By getting a brain freeze?”

“Hey, if it works…” Ian takes another loud slurp. Ben audibly shudders, and she grins. “I’ll let you get back to your super exciting security job, though.”

“And you can go back to yours.”

“It’s not really security.”

“Security testing?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m gonna call it a heist.”

“Your heist, then,” Ben allows, with something in his voice that Ian decides to interpret as fondness. “I’ll see you at headquarters.”

“I’ll see you,” she echoes, and ends the call. She takes a second to take stock of her surroundings. The street corner, her phone in one hand, the smoothie in the other. There’s a man dying, not even a tenth of a mile away from her. There’s a bank she’s going to help rob. She’s done everything she can to help one of those things.

“Sometimes all you can do is call someone,” she murmurs, with the weight of a mantra, and taps a new contact on her phone.

Kyle picks up on the first ring. “Ian?”

Ian grins. “Hey, Bossy, I’m gonna need another fake account. We’ve got a bank to rob.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Ian helps a man whose body is being turned into metal; most of his torso is metal and he struggles to move. If anyone needs a summary of the chapter because they're not comfortable reading this, feel free to comment/otherwise message me and I'll send you one.


	3. Chapter 3

“Are you ready?”

“Are you sure you can do this?”

“Yeah, I’ve done this tons of times.”

“With people other than Huber?”

Brad pauses. “I mean, yeah, once or twice-”

“Once or twice,” Kyle repeats. His fingers tighten around Brad’s elbow. “Okay. I can work with that.”

“It’s just one wall.”

“We’re going through a wall and the floor twice today. Do we have to practice going through the floor?”

“I’m more worried about going through the ceiling,” Brad says. He doesn’t give Kyle any time to process that before he steps forward. Kyle stumbles after him, and the two of them walk through the wall easily.

“Oh,” Kyle says. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“It’s not,” Huber agrees, from where he’s sitting on the couch, watching them. “You just go and then you’re there.”

“Just like regular walking,” Brad agrees. “You good, Bosman?”

“What was that you were saying about ceilings?”

Brad looks up. The ceiling at headquarters is about as high as the vault ceiling, if Huber’s specs are accurate, so they could probably practice flying right now. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“Not really.”

“You wanna go for a quick trip to the roof?”

Kyle glances up. “Do we have to?”

“We’re going to have to later today.”

“I knew we should’ve practiced more.” He glances at Huber. “Any advice?”

“Hold on,” Huber says. “If you let go of him, you fall faster.”

“That happened once,” Brad says, as reassuring as he can manage. “We were only sixteen, it was fine.”

“Have you ever fallen faster than you could control?”

“Yes, he has,” Huber answers before Brad has the chance to. “I was there.”

“I was  _ fifteen, _ ” Brad says exasperatedly. “You didn’t need to bring that up.”

Huber waves him off. “Whatever you say. Go practice flying.”

Bosman turns to Brad. “Am I going to get a warning this time?”

“Sure, why not?” Brad looks back at the ceiling. “On my count, jump. Three, two, one, and-”

Brad has had a couple of conversations with conventional flyers before, about how what he really does isn’t flying so much as it is floating with conviction. He doesn’t have wings, or gravity manipulation, or anything else that would make this traditional flying. All he does is get a push and then make himself lighter than the air, and hope for the best.

It’s a little trickier when someone’s with him, but Kyle jumps on his cue, and Brad shifts them at the right moment.

“Catch you later,” Huber says as the two of them drift through the ceiling. Brad makes a point of flipping him off, just because.

“How do you know when to go solid again?” Kyle asks, muffled by the insulation in the roof.

“You practice,” Brad answers. He waits until they’re a few inches above the rough. “Landing in three, two, one, and-” their feet crash down on top of the roof.

Kyle stumbles slightly, letting go of Brad’s arm in the process. “Whoa.”

“You get used to it.”

“I hope I never have to.”

Brad half-smiles. “Yeah, fair. We should also practice going through the floor, since it’s how we’re going to get in the vault.”

“Can I have a minute?”

“Of course.”

Bosman nods and fiddles with his glasses. Brad takes the opportunity to stretch out his back, just to make sure he hasn’t fucked up his spine somehow. It’d happened once, when he was in college. He’d phased through something and accidentally made some of his muscles denser than they should’ve been without realizing it. Huber had been by his side the entire time he was talking about back pains, armed with painkillers and Google.

“Is the floor easier?” Kyle asks after a second.

Brad glances over. “Not really. It’s hard to time it right.”

“Something tells me there’s a lot of subtlety in the timing,” he says dryly.

“You’d be right. We don’t want to go crashing on the floor.”

Kyle nods. “Want to demonstrate?”

“I’d be happy to.” Brad holds out his arm, and Kyle links his elbow. “Going down?”

“Let’s get this over with,” Kyle sighs. Brad decides not to remind him that they’re going to be doing this in a much more high-stakes situation later that day.

“Jump on my count,” Brad instructs. “Three, two, one-” 

They jump, and Brad sends them through the roof as fast as possible, barely getting them solid in time before they land.

“I don’t like that one,” Kyle says, unlinking his arm from Brad’s. “I liked up better.”

Huber nods. “Flying is cool. Falling is not cool.”

“Having gravity on your side is a mixed blessing,” Brad agrees. “But it’s going to get us into the vault in- how long?”

“A little under an hour,” Ian announces as she sweeps into the room. “I have all my paperwork in order - thanks, Bossy - and I’m ready to cause a storm.”

“I already sent the fruit basket to Henry Parker,” Huber adds. Brad can only narrowly avoid shaking his head, because of  _ course _ he did. Huber is so kind he can hardly stand it sometimes.

“Am I driving separately?” Ian asks.

“You can if you want, but we can also drop you off and circle the block. Got your alarm?”

Ian nods and produces the alarm. That particular stroke of genius was Huber’s: it’s a modified panic button, and it’ll send an alert to Bosman’s phone as soon as it’s pressed. When the alarm goes off, they’ll be clear to run into the vault, and then back out of the vault. It’s a way to communicate when there’s a wall between them.

“You’re sure that the best time is an hour from now?” Kyle asks.

Ian nods. “It’s gonna be halfway between Henry Parker’s lunch break and the end of his shift.”

“Ah,” Huber says wisely. “When his soul is the most broken.”

“Jesus,” Brad mutters. “You sure the fruit basket is going to be enough?”

“Should I send him another?”

“Absolutely not,” Brad says firmly, because he knows Huber  _ would. _ “Okay, we’ve got some time. Bosman, do you want to practice more wall-shifting so you can get used to it?”

“No,” Kyle says, but he sighs. “I probably should, though.”

“It gets easier,” Huber says, almost sympathetically.

Bosman shoots him a dirty look. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve been doing it since you were a teenager.”

“Yeah, but it got easier.”

“I’ve never gotten to fly with Brad,” Ian says, a little wistfully.

“Because we don’t know how our powers would interact,” Brad reminds her. If Ian can shift her molecules, and Brad can shift his, there’s a pretty solid chance that they mess themselves up on a level that they actually, literally can’t fix.

“Yeah, I know, but still. I want to try your kind of flying.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side,” Kyle mutters. “Should we go through the ceiling again?”

“Yeah, probably. Or we can do walls.”

“No, I need to get used to the ceilings.” He grabs Brad’s hand again.

“Well,” Ian says, with a smirk on her face that Brad hates before she finishes the sentence. “It was nice of you guys to…drop in.”

“Boo,” Brad says with a frown. “Bosman, let’s get out of here. Jump on the count of three.”

Ian’s laughter follows them out, up through the ceiling and vents, but it’s Huber’s smile that really sticks with Brad.

#

Brad has been to the bank before, not because he has accounts there or anything, but because it’s like a tourist spot specifically for locals. It’s fancy as hell, with a gilded this and a stainless that. It’s modern, sleek,  and hidden away in the middle of a regular city street. He hasn’t seen the vault, although he imagines that most people haven’t either.

“Go through the plan one more time,” Huber says, before Brad and Kyle get out of the car.

“You know the plan,” Brad replies exasperatedly. “You came up with the plan.”

Huber locks all the car doors and looks at Brad expectantly.

Brad rolls his eyes. “Ian signals, Bosman and I jump through a wall and then the floor, grab the bag, wait for our second signal, and then fly up through the ceiling.”

“Onto the roof,” Kyle adds. “At which point we hope that nobody is looking at the roof of the bank to see two guys appear on top of it.”

“I don’t think that’d be bad, actually,” Huber admits. “It’d discredit the bank, send a quick message to Aniston.”

“And we’d be on wanted lists,” Brad points out.

Huber waves him off. “Super charter or whatever. It’d be fine.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever read the super charter,” Kyle says.

Brad has also not read the super charter, although he’s not about to admit it. He understands enough of the regulations in it to know what he can and can’t do, which laws he can bend, which laws he can break as long as he tapes over them afterwards. He’s not sure what the rules are about arrests, and being suspects for a bank robbery, and whether or not the fact that they were hired to rob a bank makes the bank robbery legal.

Huber doesn’t contradict Bosman, just unlocks the doors and claps Brad’s shoulder. “Break a leg,” he says mildly.

Brad smiles at the unspoken  _ be careful. _ “Don’t get a parking ticket,” he answers, knowing Huber hears  _ you too _ , and climbs out of the car. He hears Kyle get out of the back seat, and together they start towards the alley between the bank and whatever’s next door. Thanks to Huber, they know exactly where they need to be to get into their vault, and they make their way towards the back of the building.

“We didn’t practice going through walls and then down,” Kyle points out as they come to a stop.

“I think we can just jump through the wall.” Brad frowns. “Probably? We might be better off if we run.”

Kyle shrugs and pulls out his phone. “Nothing from Ian yet.”

“There could be a line inside the bank.”

Kyle shrugs again and lifts his other hand, sparks of light flicking from fingertip to fingertip. “She’s been in there for a while, we’ll be up soon.”

“Yeah.” Brad considers trying to not stare at Kyle’s hand, but he can’t help it. “Is that what you’re doing to the cameras?”

“No, it’s more like-” he points at the corner of the building. “Imagine there’s a camera there.”

“Sure.”

The corner of the building lights up, like someone’s shining a flashlight down from it. Brad flinches away. “And that works?”

“Yeah, it overloads the cameras.”

“Damn. And you can do that for all of them?”

Kyle turns his head towards the other corner of the roof, closer to the ceiling, and nods. The same flashlight-glow happens.

“Bosman,” Brad says seriously. “I think you’re the most underutilized resource this team has.”

“Don’t tell Jones that,” Kyle says mildly, and both lights go out.

Brad frowns. He knows Kyle’s been on secret assignment for Jones, and he knows it’s something serious judging from how careful they both are about it. He also doesn’t know if there’s an end in sight.

“Bosman,” he starts, uncertain of what to say next, but luckily he doesn’t have to think of anything. The alarm on Kyle’s phone goes off, a simple chirp.

“Well,” Kyle says, and grabs Brad’s elbow. “Ready?”

“Are you?”

“Sure, I know where the cameras are. How’re we doing this?”

“We’re going to run and then I’m dropping us.”

Kyle slips his phone into his pocket. “Ready.”

“Run,” Brad says, and together, they run, through the wall, into the tellers’ area of the bank. He catches the sound of Ian’s voice, harsh and angry, probably yelling at Henry Parker, before he lets them fall through the floor. The vault ceiling is thicker than he expected, but he can phase through it easily, and he manages to stop them from falling through the floor underneath.

“Whoa,” Bosman says as soon as they’ve landed. “That was easy.”

“That was stupid easy,” Brad agrees, looking around. The vault isn’t huge, but it has more than enough room for the ludicrous amount of money inside.

“We just broke into a  _ bank, _ ” Kyle laughs, slightly awed. “We’re in a bank vault until Ian tells us we can leave.”

“So we should grab the bag,” Brad says, and looks around. He is, of course, distracted by how much  _ money _ there is. He’s not bad off or anything. None of them are, but he’s certainly never seen so much money in one place.

“Think it’s this?” Kyle stoops down and picks up a black backpack, with a giant red A on it.

Brad snorts. “I don’t know, that seems a little too subtle.”

“Should we grab something else just in case?”

“Huber said we could always use a little extra cash.”

Bosman barks out a laugh. “We shouldn’t give Aniston a reason to press charges, but he’s not wrong.”

“Maybe it’s worth it,” Brad starts. While he’s not entirely serious, he is absolutely ready to make his case, but the alarm on Kyle’s phone goes off before he gets the chance. “Ready?”

Kyle slings the backpack over one shoulder. “Ready.”

“Jump in three, two, one-”

The thing about phasing through multiple stories is that the jump is even more important, especially when you have to be fast. Brad doesn’t have time to think through exactly how intangible they should be, just “light enough to float to the roof,” and he maybe gets carried away.

“Brad,” Kyle says, very calmly. “I think we’re through the roof.”

Brad blinks. They’re about ten feet above the roof and still rising.

“Oh,” he says, and swings their momentum over towards the alleyway, falling fast. “Got distracted.”

“That’s a pretty big distraction.”

“Listen, the physics of this are pretty hard.”

“Pretty hard? I had to obscure multiple security cameras while we were in motion. That was pretty hard.”

“And you did a great job,” Brad says magnanimously as they touch down in the alleyway. “Really.”

“Thanks.” Kyle lets go of Brad, blinks once, twice. “Brad.”

“Yep.”

Kyle leans in, something giddy sparking behind his eyes. “We just robbed a bank.”

In the street, at the end of the alley, Huber’s car rolls into view, and Brad knows that any second now they’re going to have to make their getaway. Concerned citizens won’t know about the contract with Aniston, they’ll just see a robbery. But right now, Brad just laughs, helpless and adrenaline-filled and purely, purely delighted.

“No, Kyle,” he says, and relishes the feeling. “We just robbed  _ the _ bank.”

#

Jones is waiting for them when they get back to headquarters, eyes bright. “So?”

Huber brandishes the bag with the A on it. “Got it.”

“Holy shit,” Jones laughs, amazed. “We did it.”

“We did it!” Huber shakes the bag in the air and tosses it to Jones, who catches it easily. “Not sure what’s in there, but hey, you can show Aniston we got what he wanted.”

“And he can stop saying his vault is super-proof,” Brad adds. He can’t keep the smugness out of his voice, but he knows none of them will care. “Maybe Defy can make him a better ceiling.”

“Hope not,” Kyle mutters, so softly that Brad almost misses it.

“Maybe he’ll make the ceiling out of the same metal as the rest of the vault,” Huber suggests. “Maybe someone will teach him about regular security.”

“I don’t think Aniston knows how to be secure,” Jones grins.

The door swings open, and Brad turns to see Ian striding in. “Henry Parker deserves the fruit basket, he was a saint,” she announces. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“What’s in it?”

“Good question.” Jones moves to open the bag and pauses. “Oh, Ian, Damiani wanted me to tell you that he heard back from that client you guys met the other day.”

Brad frowns - there’s no way Ian had time to meet a client, not when she’s been spending so much time at the bank - but Ian visibly stills. “And?”

“They’re not going to need our services.”

“Oh,” Ian says. Her voice goes brittle, and Huber shoots Brad a quizzical look. Brad shrugs. Ian ignores them both. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Jones replies, a little too soft. Brad glances at Kyle, who looks just as confused. Maybe it’s another secret thing that the rest of them don’t get to know about yet. Brad isn’t a fan of being kept outside the loop.

Ian brightens quickly, though, and points at the bag. “Well, don’t keep us waiting, Captain Jones, let’s see what our prize is.”

“Yeah, let’s see,” Huber adds. “We went through a lot to get that thing.”

Jones unzips the backpack. “Oh,” he says, barely-constrained laughter in his voice. “It’s an XBox.”

“It’s an XBox,” Brad repeats incredulously. “360?”

“No, it’s an XBox One.”

“We already have one of those,” Kyle mutters, sounding disappointed.

Huber shrugs. “Yeah, well, we can sell it and add whatever we get to our paycheck for this job.”

“Or we could just have another XBox,” Ian points out. “We could always use more gaming systems, right?”

“Sure we could,” Jones says agreeably. “And I’ll be sure to thank Mr. Aniston for his donation to our rec center when I meet with him at the end of the week.”

“You could also tell that guy to go fuck himself,” Brad suggests. “Just an idea.”

“I’ll try and be polite about it,” Jones promises. “Now you guys can go home for the day, or you can stick around. We’ve got people on call, but you’ve done more than enough.”

Huber turns to Brad immediately. “We should go get ice cream.”

“Ice cream.”

“As a reward for robbing a bank.”

“As long as you don’t tell the people who sell us the ice cream that that’s what it’s for.”

“I’d never.” Huber grins. “Let’s go.”

“Enjoy your ice cream,” Ian says, grinning. Huber waves at everyone as he leaves, and Brad follows him out.

There’s an ice cream shop in the strip mall, only a short walk from headquarters. Brad and Huber have a pact that they only go with each other - Huber’s idea, because he figured he’d go too often if Brad weren’t there to stop him - so it’s easy for Brad to fall into step beside him, like they’ve done dozens and dozens of times before.

“You robbed a bank today,” Huber says, apropos of nothing.

“You masterminded a bank robbery today,” Brad counters. “That’s also pretty cool.”

“Maybe a little.”

“The vault was boring from the inside, I think you got to do the fun part. And you did a damn good job.”

Brad looks over just in time to see Huber’s smile, bright and pleased and more than a little proud. “Thanks, man,” he says, and it knocks the breath out of Brad’s lungs.

The thing is, he’s known for a long time that he’s in love with Huber. It’s a nonentity in his life, most of the time, because Huber has been the most important person in his world since they were kids, since long before they knew anything about shields and density-shifting. And he’s still the most important person for Brad, he always will be. It’s just that Brad thinks about kissing him sometimes, about how his image of life has shifted from being life with Huber in it to life with Huber period.

And it’s easy to forget, sometimes, because Huber is his best friend first and foremost, but there’s a second where Brad can’t say anything. He can only look at Huber, smiling after robbing a bank, and think, helplessly,  _ I would do anything for you. _

The moment passes, because it always does, and the tightness inside Brad’s chest loosens into something resembling normal feelings. And Huber’s still smiling, so Brad says with finality, “We deserve this ice cream.”

Huber nods firmly. “We definitely deserve this ice cream.”

“We had a long day at the office today.”

And Huber throws back his head and laughs, and Brad thinks that he already stole from a bank, so he can steal this moment, too. Just take this with his best friend and be grateful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned before, I am going to be discontinuing this series. I was excited and invested when I first started writing it, but school stress and mental health stress have both been making it difficult to focus on the project. Additionally, I’ve realized that this project may be better suited for original fiction - as you’ll see, the story got a bit… dark, and I became less and less comfortable with shoving this story on real people. So this is game over.
> 
> But first: I’ve written out a summary for parts 3-5. I first outlined it back in October, and some parts of it are more detailed than others, but it hasn’t changed particularly much since then. The two excerpts (and various other lines) I have written will be indented; the rest will be chaptered/detailed below. I know it’s not quite the same as a full story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> CWs below: allusions to body horror and graphic violence (the violence itself is not depicted graphically, but if I’d actually written the fic out it would’ve been… a bit bloody. So be ready.)

**PART THREE**

Chapter 1: Kyle

> Kyle’s going to be late.
> 
> He recognizes that this is going to happen. There’s no two ways around it: even though he’s walking, traffic is atrocious right now, and foot traffic is even worse.
> 
> Admittedly, this probably has something to do with the supervillain about half a dozen blocks away, knocking over buildings, but that’s not the point. The point is that Kyle’s going to be late, unless someone stops this guy from wrecking things, and even then he’s still only going to barely be on time. It’s not a big deal, since they’re just meeting at a movie theater, but he would still rather be on time than not.
> 
> He’s so wrapped up in that train of thought that it takes him a second to register the person who comes flying through the air haphazardly. They arc directly over his head, and for a second Kyle is worried that he’s going to have to either perform first aid or call Damiani. But then the person catches themself and does a flip, landing a little clumsily in the middle of the street, and Kyle grins. He’d know those moves anywhere.
> 
> “Hey, Freebird,” he calls out, lifting a hand in greeting.
> 
> She whips her head around to look at him, and he can see her shoulders relax as she recognizes him. “Bosman! Hey!”
> 
> “Fancy meeting you here, huh?”
> 
> “Yeah, that’s crazy!” She grins. “What’re you doing?”
> 
> “The team and I were going to catch a movie, and hang out.” There’s an explosion, off in the distance, and Kyle grimaces. “I’m running a little late.”
> 
> “Yikes,” she says sympathetically. “I’ve gotta get back to work, but hey, tell everyone I say hi!”
> 
> “Yeah, of course. Come back and visit us sometime, too.”
> 
> “Definitely.” The wind starts whipping up around her, blonde hair flying haphazardly around her masked face, but Kyle can still feel the way she’s smiling at him. “I’ll see you around, Kyle.”
> 
> “See you, Elyse.”
> 
> Elyse waves one last time and then shoots up into the air, flying back towards the fight.
> 
> “Small world,” Kyle mumbles to himself as he starts back down the street. He hasn’t seen Elyse nearly as often since she left the Alliance, and he misses her, even though he knows she’s happier now with Funhaus. She’s an asset to them, just like she was an asset to the Alliance, but he misses hanging out with his friend. He’s going to have to follow up with her, make sure she really does come back to visit. It’ll be a good time.
> 
> Speaking of time- Kyle glances at his phone. If he walks fast, he can still make it to the movie on time, so he starts walking towards the theater with a new purpose. This is going to be their day off, and not even supervillains can prevent them from hanging out as a team.

The team meets at the movie theater, but before they can go in together they hear an alarm from down the street. They all rush over to discover a jewelry store being robbed. Jones ensures that the store owner gets out safely while Huber tries to apprehend the robbers.

Eventually, the robber (mumbling distracted nonsense) pulls out a device that radiates the team. Kyle notices first that Ian looks different, then that Huber can’t create a shield, and lastly that Jones accidentally causes a flashbomb when startled. The robber escapes, and the team determines that their powers have been switched in the following pattern: Kyle’s powers went to Jones, Jones’s to Huber, Huber’s to Brad, Brad’s to Ben, Ben’s to Ian, and Ian’s to Kyle.

The team returns to headquarters. Damiani laughs his ass off at them.

Kyle reaches out to SourceFed to see if any other teams are suffering power-swaps or reporting similar stories. None of the teams are, and the Alliance decides to investigate on their own. They also agree to take the rest of the day off and lay low. Kyle plans on working from home to look into the robber and possible causes of the swap.

> The moment it sinks in, that it really sinks in, is when Kyle gets home and the light is too bright.
> 
> It happens, most days. He’s tried a lot of different lightbulbs and these can withstand his power the best, but they also happen to be a couple shades brighter than he wants them to be. Normally he can get home from headquarters and turn on the light and wave away all the excess.
> 
> But today Kyle gets home and flicks his lightswitch on and waves a hand and nothing changes.
> 
> He blinks a couple of times, hoping to dispel some of the brightness. It stays. His apartment is lit up wrong and there’s nothing he can do to change it. He doesn’t have dimmer switches or anything. He’s normally his own dimmer switch.
> 
> Kyle flips the light back off and treks over to his bedroom. He has a lamp, sitting next to his bed, and it’s too dim when he turns it on but it’s something. There’s enough light that he can see.
> 
> Kyle sighs heavily and sits on the edge of his bed. He didn’t realize how much a part of himself his powers had become, across the last few years. But here he is, home alone, not turning on the lights because he can’t fix them. He’s a grown adult, and it feels like a part of him is missing, in a painfully physical sense. It feels like he’s Kyle Bosman, but  _ wrong. _
> 
> After a minute he fishes his phone out of his pocket. They could use some backup on this, even if this is going to be one of the worst conversations he has.
> 
> It takes about half a dozen rings, but Elyse picks up eventually. “Bosman?”
> 
> “Are you guys going to be busy tomorrow?”
> 
> “You know we are.”
> 
> Kyle nods to himself. It’s the normal aftermath of supervillain attacks. He’s only had the experience once or twice, but there’s a lot of politicking to be done when things go wrong. It follows that Funhaus is going to be at court basically all day tomorrow. “Can we use your gym?”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “We have kind of a situation going on, we could really use your training center.”
> 
> “What kind of a situation?”
> 
> Kyle winces. “The kind of thing I probably can’t tell you about because of statutes?”
> 
> Elyse is silent for a long couple of seconds before she sighs. “Yeah, I’ll check in with Bruce, but you can use the training center. Is everything okay?”
> 
> “Sure,” Kyle says, because it probably is. Or will be. “Thank you.”
> 
> “When I said I’d see you around, this isn’t what I meant.”
> 
> “This isn’t what I had in mind either.”
> 
> “I’ll have to come visit you so you can explain the situation,” Elyse says with conviction. “Even if it’s not tomorrow.”
> 
> “We’ll try and be able to legally tell you,” Kyle answers.
> 
> Elyse smiles. He can hear it in her voice as she says, “Don’t be a stranger, Bosman.”
> 
> “Yeah, you too.” Kyle hangs up and lies down on his bed. He has some digging to do, with facial recognition software and probably experimental science, but first he needs a break.
> 
> He’s never understood how Ian could shift. Maybe it’s different for her, with the dysphoria in the equation, but the thought of changing his face never sat well with him. And now he can do it. He can become someone new at a moment’s notice.
> 
> Kyle lifts a hand in front of his face and concentrates. His fingers stretch out, getting a couple of inches longer, and his palm shrinks. He wiggles his fingers, and everything goes back to normal proportions. Or, at least, he’s assuming it’s normally proportioned. It’s close enough.
> 
> “I’ve gotta fix this,” he says, into the dim light of his bedroom. Nothing answers, of course, but he knows he has to fix this. He’s not sure he can stand this change for much longer.

#

Chapter 2: Jones

Bosman meets Brandon at headquarters and tells him that he’s found evidence that Defy is working on something that sounds similar: they’re researching ways for individuals to share knowledge and skills. They determine that this is a prototype of that, and not a very successful one.

Brandon decides to announce to the team that they’re investigating Defy, including telling them about what happened to Maude. He warns them to keep an ear out for other similar experiments gone wrong, and they head to Funhaus to train.

Together, the team gets used to each other’s powers, including Jones reflecting on how strange it is to have actual combative powers. They all face various struggles: Huber still tries to take the hits even though he doesn’t have shields, and Bosman and Ben both struggle with figuring out how to make their new powers combative. The training nearly ends in catastrophe when Brandon and Ian try to combine their powers to create a superhot flashbomb, as Bosman and Ben have done before, and Ian loses control of the fire. She leaves, and Ben follows her. The rest of the team continues training.

#

Chapter 3: Ian

Ian, fresh out of almost causing an inferno, tries to get her bearings outside the training building. Ben finds her and helps to talk her down; Ian has the revelation that she has feelings for him.

“How do you do it?” Ian says. It feels like she’s gasping for air, like her lungs are burning inside her.

“By getting it wrong,” Ben answers. “I’ve burned a lot of things down, but it gets easier.” He reaches out again, and Ian thinks  _ not him, not him. _ The fire rushes up from her fingertips, through her wrists, and by the time Ben’s hands close around hers her skin is cool. Ben smiles at her. “You’re already getting the hang of it.”

Directly after the training session, the team hears about another jewelry store robbery. They rush to the store and somewhat clumsily use their new powers to stop him. The robber switches their powers back, and the team plans on arresting him. Before they have the chance to do so, a Defy representative arrives with security personnel. They have both bureaucratic red tape and paperwork, and they take the robber (whom they describe as a rogue agent) away.

Afterwards, the team relaxes with their proper powers. Ian and Bosman have a brief discussion about identity as it relates to superpowers, particularly shapeshifting.

#

**PART FOUR**

Chapter 1: Brandon

Jones takes Sophie to work one day. Everything is business as usual - he exchanges emails with someone bureaucratic and checks in about the Defy progress - although he does receive multiple reports of animals in the Los Angeles area acting strangely. These reports culminate in Don realizing that he can telepathically speak with Sophie. He allows Brandon and Sophie to speak briefly through telepathy, in a kind of strange and also heartwarming conversation, before they begin fixing it. Brandon realizes quickly that the question of animal communication, especially animal linguistics, is something that he’s heard about before, and he asks Bosman to contact SourceFed.

#

Chapter 2: Brad

The team decides to divide and conquer to end the animal catastrophe. Jones and Bosman stay at headquarters; Ian and Don head to Funhaus; and Brad, Huber, and Ben go to SourceFed. Ben and Maude have a brief but joyful reunion, and Brad coordinates with Sam Bashor and Whitney Moore to figure out what’s going on with the animals. This chapter is mostly Brad and Huber hanging out in SourceFed HQ, making fun of each other, and figuring out where they can find the scientist that stole Maude’s research.

#

Chapter 3: Ben

The team goes to find the scientist that caused everything, only to discover that Defy’s cleanup team (including the same representative) has already been there. She assures them that the effects will be wearing off shortly. Ben calls Maude to tell her the good news.

Together, the Alliance returns to headquarters and finds someone waiting for them with their chest partially turned to metal. Ian says that “it’s going faster this time,” confusing everyone. Damiani says that he can’t help the victim but he can go to Funhaus to see if Bruce (who has metallokinetic powers) can affect the spread at all. Jones gives him the okay, and Damiani leaves.

Ian tells her story about the mugging and Scott. Nearly everyone moves on but Ben takes a moment to make sure Ian is handling things okay; he realizes that her mysterious call to him a month or so ago was after the mugging incident.

Bosman announces that he found a Defy press release that could be related - “I really, really hope it’s not, but I think it might be.” The next day, Defy announces their newest technology project, still in the early stages: a nano-bio-tech cure-all serum that can fix physical disfigurations, with the unfortunate side-effect of turning people to metal.

#

**PART FIVE**

Chapter 1: Ian

Ian and Elyse go out for lunch. Elyse shares two important details: Funhaus faced a case with superhuman growth hormone (“-you know, just like Huber always says will happen!” “oh my god, we can’t tell him”) and Bruce could save the patient who was turning to metal.

Ian and Jones visit Defy together. While Jones meets with CEO Theo Thornton, Ian snoops around - or, more accurately, she quickly befriends a lower-level lab tech under the guise of being a review board member and requests copies of their data for ethical purposes. She obtains a physical hard drive that has evidence of most of Defy’s wrongdoing. The team decides not to act on the evidence - yet.

#

Chapter 2: Ben

Ben returns home to discover that his apartment has been broken into. He immediately calls Ian, who extends an invitation to stay the night at her place while the police investigate the break-in. They discuss whether or not the break-in was random or Defy-related; Ian eventually says something along the lines of “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” and the two of them kiss.

The next day, the team is discussing potential offensive plans against Defy when they receive an invitation from Thornton to visit a remote desert testing facility. They drive out together, and Thornton shows him a room where he has prototypes for robots that double as security officers. Bosman realizes belatedly that the Thornton in front of them is a hologram and that they’re all in serious danger.

#

Chapter 3: Kyle

The team fights the robots. This bit is admittedly a little fuzzy, but it culminates in Huber throwing up a shield to save someone else and being punctured in the chest by a robot. The team frantically realizes their only chance to save him is if they inject him with the nanotech serum and get him to Funhaus; Brad injects him and takes him away.

The remainder of the team makes their way out, but Kyle insists that they can’t leave these prototypes intact. Together, he and Ben make a superhot flashbomb that destroys the factory and temporarily blinds Kyle; a brief flashback reveals that Kyle, unlike most people, had his powers develop in his early twenties and that he didn’t need glasses until he accidentally blinded himself.

Kyle wakes up in the Funhaus medical center, where Ian tells him that the facility is destroyed but Defy is still carrying on their experiments, that Huber is alive and going to be fine, and that while Kyle’s retinas are badly burned Damiani will be able to heal him shortly. The team (sans Huber, who’s still unconscious, and Brad, who nobody has the heart to drag away from him) discusses their future and decides not to pursue revenge, only deal with Defy as the issues come up. They pass their information on to SourceFed.

#

Epilogue: Huber

A newly-healed Huber returns home with Brad. They get into an argument, where Huber realizes that Brad is badly shaken by his almost-death, and also abruptly realizes that he’s in love with Brad. The two of them kiss, and Brad makes Huber promise to protect himself, not just others.

The next day, Brad and Huber walk into headquarters to see the whole team there. Jones announces that it’s business as usual. They all play Mario Kart.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all can understand why I chose to end this series this way, and that you can appreciate the story if not the actual fic. If you have any questions about anything here, you’re welcome to contact me on Tumblr @pervincetosscobble or Twitter @jazfiute - and I’ll likely be posting tidbits from/about the series on Tumblr in a while, so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> One last thank you to Shawna, who read everything from the outline to all of part two and helped me work through the decision to discontinue. She is the best mom a boy could ask for. Thank you for everything, Shawna! Love you lots. <3
> 
> And thank you to everyone who read the fic. I’m sorry I couldn’t finish it, but I hope this is enough to get you through the loss. Thank you for reading. It means worlds. xo


End file.
